


I Don't Do This Very Often

by epeolatry



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Beating, Blood, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Come Marking, D/s, Deepthroating, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Light BDSM, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Sex Club, Spanking, There is no plot, domjolras, literally just porn, subtaire, whatsoever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 15:23:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeolatry/pseuds/epeolatry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras picks up Grantaire at a fetish club. Absolutely no pretence at plot, hurrah!</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Do This Very Often

Grantaire didn’t really come to places like this, not anymore. He had when he was younger, just eighteen and eager to explore the scene, find out what it was all about, experiment, and maybe even find someone to look after him, some dom willing to take on an emotionally unstable and terminally cynical sub… But that was then and this is now; twenty-six and jaded, having been picked up for a night then dropped too many times, Grantaire didn’t usually come to these places anymore.

 

Except tonight.

 

Tonight had been building for about two weeks now, a fortnight of crippling artist’s block coupled with a desperate, gnawing _need_ that was waking him up in the middle of the night, achingly hard and with tears in his eyes, an itch that simply refused to be scratched by the playful love bites and sweaty rutting of the one night stands he had been trying to assuage it with.

 

So far tonight wasn’t going too well. Despite his desperation, Grantaire was still wary, and the unwanted approaches of a clearly intoxicated fifty-something businessman with a body not made for leather-wear wasn’t making him feel any easier about the situation. Grantaire himself was bare-chested, his tattooed torso augmented with body paint in a nod to the club’s strict dress code. He’d only just managed to talk his way in at all, as from the waist down he was covered by denim – shiny black denim, but denim nonetheless, dangerously skin tight, and with rips so strategically placed that the bouncers were finally convinced to let him in.

 

The club was full of outrageous outfits, everything from relatively tame naughty nurses in latex and lace, the fetishists zipped head to toe in shiny PVC, to the subs being led around by their masters and mistresses, most of them stark naked and some already bruised or bleeding. It was these last that bothered Grantaire, and he tried to look down on these pathetic, pliant creatures in disgust as they scurried past him, while fully aware that he would trade anything to be in their position, owned, used, _loved_.

 

He sighed and turned away from the crowded floor, intending to take a seat at the bar but instead colliding with a man handsomely dressed in full evening attire. He looked up and caught the stranger’s eye, clear blue - not at all like the sky, more like ice, hard and flinty – his hair, blonde and falling in insouciant waves, sharp aristocratic features, full lips that made him wonder…

 

Shit.

 

“Sorry,” muttered Grantaire, his eyes instinctively dropping to the floor; the man radiated power and sex, and Grantaire had no trouble imagining himself grovelling at his feet, begging forgiveness, begging to be allowed to kiss those exquisitely polished, expensive boots, begging for anything…

 

 _Shit_.

 

“No problem,” replied the man softly, running one finger along Grantaire’s jawline and tilting his head up in a gesture of such casual intimacy that Grantaire instantly felt himself slipping away, falling into the thrall of this beautiful stranger.

 

“No problem at all,” repeated the blond with a predatory smile, “My, you’re a pretty one aren’t you?”

 

Grantaire ducked his head automatically, always loathe to take praise especially regarding his looks. But when the stranger pressed gently under his chin again Grantaire complied with the pressure, meeting the man’s eyes despite every instinct in him screaming for him to look down, look away.

 

“And well trained too,” nodded the blond approvingly, “But no collar. Are you here all alone tonight, boy?”

 

It was presumptuous and forward, but Grantaire felt hot arousal shiver down his spine at the use of the pejorative title.

 

“Yes sir,” he whispered, and the unreadable hardness of the other man’s eyes flickered into something else; something dark and hot, like ice transmuted into the lick of a blue-hot flame.

 

“Then you’ll permit me to buy you a drink.”

 

It was a command, not an invitation, and Grantaire was tempted solely on those grounds. He allowed himself to be steered through the crowd with a hand in the small of his back ( _skin on skin, powerful heat, a strong hand splayed out just above his tail bone, sweat dripping downward_ ) but when they reached the bar he managed to shake his head assertively, “No drink, thank you. I’m, uh, in recovery. Alcoholic. Seventeen months clean and I’m shooting for a clear eighteen.”

 

The man looked momentarily surprised then said warmly, “Congratulations,” before turning to the barman and ordering, “Two cherry cokes.”

 

The order took Grantaire by surprise; it was his favourite drink (at least since the intervention), but an unusual choice, and he was disconcerted.

 

“Why cherry coke?”

 

“You don’t like it?” asked the man, looking genuinely concerned.

 

“No, I do,” Grantaire quickly reassured him, “It’s my favourite, actually. It’s just not everyone’s first choice is all. I’m curious,” he added, with what he hoped was an alluring smile.

 

The blond returned his smile, “Well it started as a running joke among my friends actually. They used to always buy it for me then snigger, until one day I finally asked why. Turns out they kept ordering it because I was the only virgin in the group,” his smile turn wry, “ _Cherry_ coke, see. Very witty, my friends are.”

 

Grantaire laughed, half at the absurdity of anyone as sexy as the man in front of him remaining a virgin for very long, and half surprised by the candidness of the story; people tended to wear masks in more than just one way in places like this.

 

“So what do you do?” Grantaire asked as their drinks arrived. Up close the man was even more arrestingly beautiful than he had been in the half-light of the dance floor – an uncommon feat. He was about Grantaire’s age but his youth unblemished by a lifetime of alcoholism, his skin flawless, his hair thick and shiny, everything about him giving the impression of vibrant good health. His evening suit was tailored and clearly expensive, but he was careless with it, slinging the jacket casually across the back of the bar stool, implying a familiarity with (and contempt for) the finer things in life. The sleeves of his crisp, white shirt were casually pushed rather than carefully rolled up to his elbows, the top two buttons undone, showing off the elegant swoop of his collarbones, and the bowtie he must have arrived in now hung loosely around his throat. Even, white teeth spoke of a good diet and regular trips to the dentist; immaculately shined shoes betrayed a keen attention to detail; and short, clean fingernails, _well_.

 

Despite these surreptitious observations, Grantaire nearly fell off his seat when the man smoothly replied, “I’m a lawyer.”

 

“You- what?” Grantaire said stupidly.

 

The blond laughed richly, “A lawyer. Are you surprised?”

 

“Yeah,” Grantaire admitted, “I mean, you’re so young… and the long hair… and forgive my saying so, but the deviant sexual proclivities.”

 

“If you think there’s no such thing as a kinky gay lawyer then you’re going to the wrong parties.”

 

The conversation continued easily between them, and they exchanged stories and names and laughter. At some point Enjolras’ hand found its way to Grantaire’s knee, but it never climbed any higher, simply remaining a warm, almost chaste anchor between them.

 

Grantaire felt a tug in his gut every time Enjolras smiled or laughed, every time those icy blue eyes caught his own murky greens. Enjolras was engaging and intelligent, gentle but powerful, fierce and warm and passionate, and Grantaire ached to know him more. He wanted to be allowed to taste those lips, feel those teeth sink into him, strong hands tangled manipulatively in dark curls as he traced his tongue along sharp hip bones, then put it to better use…

 

Some of this must have been showing in his face, because Enjolras finished the last of his drink then turned to face Grantaire and slowly looked him up and down, blue eyes glinting with frank purpose. He slid to his feet gracefully, maintaining eye contact as he said simply, “Come back to my place.”

 

It was another command, and Grantaire found himself unable to do anything but nod despite how much he wanted to play coy.

 

“This way,” Enjolras grabbed Grantaire’s hand ( _warm, close, strong, in control_ ) and pulled him off the bar stool, dragging him towards the exit. Grantaire trailed behind, revelling in the simple physical pleasure of being pulled along by the suddenly impatient lawyer. He clocked a jealous look from a girl with her bare breasts linked together by a chain attached to both pierced nipples, and he smirked at her; tonight his itch was finally going to be scratched alright.

 

When they made it outside the cool air was a shock on Grantaire’s bare skin, but no more so than the rough brick of the wall that Enjolras shoved him against a second later, not so much kissing him as bruising him with his lips, forcing his mouth open with his tongue. Grantaire responded eagerly, opening his lips and tilting his head upward to give Enjolras better access, groaning at the sharp pain of the bricks grazing his back and the bite of Enjolras’ fingernails scoring down his exposed sides, coming to rest tightly on his hips, the grip possessive enough to carve tiny crescent shapes into his skin.

 

Grantaire could feel himself getting hard in his too-tight jeans, and he pressed against Enjolras eagerly, despite the pressure on his hips anchoring him to the wall, chasing the warmth that radiated from the other man’s chest through the expensive shirt.

 

A moment later Enjolras pulled away from the kiss, making Grantaire whine softly in protest. The distance seemed to cost him a great effort, and he kept his hands firmly planted on Grantaire’s hips as he pressed his forehead to the other man’s and whispered hoarsely, “Is this okay?”

 

“Yes,” Grantaire whimpered, trying to pull Enjolras back into the kiss but foiled by the other’s superior height, “ _Yes_ , please.”

 

“You… The moment I saw you…” breathed Enjolras, then shook his head, “I can’t wait to take you apart. How many orgasms will it take for you to beg me to stop? Two? Three? Come on, I want to find out.”

 

He planted a swift kiss on Grantaire’s swollen lips, then pulled him away from the wall, roughly grabbing both of his hands and pinning them in the small of his back before pushing him toward the street where a second later a black taxi with tinted windows appeared. The timing was so providential Grantaire suspected it must have been pre-planned, but when Enjolras growled hotly in his ear, “Get in,” he made no objections, sliding into the back seat, smoothly followed by the blond.

 

Enjolras wordlessly passed a handful of bills to the driver, who nodded with a small smile. A moment later an opaque screen whirred into place between the front and back seats, turning the cab into their own private booth. Enjolras turned back to Grantaire with a smug smile as he ghosted gentle fingertips down his stubbled cheek. When one digit flickered across his lower lip, Grantaire took the opportunity presented to him and pulled the finger into his mouth, sucking lightly and running his tongue along it suggestively.

 

Enjolras’ smile widened as a gleam of predatory darkness fell back across his eyes, “I love your mouth.”

 

Grantaire smirked around the intrusion as Enjolras pushed a second finger between his lips, eager to demonstrate his not inconsiderable skill.

 

“God, the things I would- What can I do to you?” Enjolras asked, suddenly businesslike as he withdrew his hand but allowed his slick fingers to rest on Grantaire’s lower lip.

 

“Anything,” breathed Grantaire, aching to take back Enjolras’ fingers, take his cock between his lips, taste it and feel the weight of it, use his tongue to tease and play, then have his mouth fucked thoroughly by this strange Adonis who radiated such ferocious power.

 

“Hush, you inviting thing,” Enjolras scolded, amused, “You must have some limits. I don’t want to cross them, so tell me what they are.”

 

Grantaire shook his head once, careful not to dislodge the tantalising weight of Enjolras fingers on his lip as he replied, “I don’t do scat. Other than that… anything. Just use me. Claim me, control me, take away my choices completely, make me beg, just… just take me away from myself.”

 

Enjolras looked entranced as he whispered, “And if I hurt you?”

 

“I’ll beg you to do it again.”

 

“If I draw blood?”

 

“I’ll lick it up and thank you for it.”

 

“You tempt me,” admitted Enjolras huskily, “I usually don’t give in to these kinds of… _desires_ … I rarely have the time, but if you’re that willing- ”

 

“Anything,” repeated Grantaire, a hint of pleading in his voice already, “Hit me, humiliate me, make me crawl at your feet, lick your boots, fuck me any way you like, choke me with your cock, with your hands, I don’t care.”

 

The last suggestion seemed to pique Enjolras’ interest and his hand slid away from Grantaire’s lips to rest around his throat, the grip just tight enough to slightly inhibit the action as Grantaire swallowed.

 

“You need this, don’t you?” asked Enjolras, his voice dangerously steady as he studied Grantaire’s face intently.

 

Grantaire nodded, swallowing again around Enjolras’ hand.

 

“Well then, I’m going to give you what you need. I’m going to use you, take my pleasure from you and leave you so thoroughly fucked that you’ll never want anyone but me inside you again. You’re going to be feeling me for a week, I’ll  make sure of that, you’re going to be bruised and sore and so, so happy.”

 

“Please- ” gasped Grantaire, already fully hard in his obscenely tight jeans.

 

“Shut up,” snapped Enjolras, tightening his grip on Grantaire’s throat until his fingernails carved red crescents in the pale skin, matching the marks already on his hips, “I have better uses for your mouth.”

 

Grantaire’s face was flushing from the lack of oxygen and he didn’t think he’d ever been harder in his life as he watched Enjolras nonchalantly flick open the fastenings on his formal trousers and pull out his glorious cock, long and hard and just beginning to glisten at the tip with precome. The shining liquid was smeared along the length by Enjolras’ free hand as he began to stroke himself lazily.

 

Grantaire only realised that his mouth was hanging open at Enjolras’ bark of derisive laughter, “Do you want something?”

 

“Want to suck you off,” Grantaire rasped thickly, all traces of shame burned entirely away by the heat of desire, “Please sir.”

 

“You beg so nicely,” said Enjolras, almost to himself as he ceased his tugging and slowly released his grip on the other man’s throat, “I’m going to make you hurt so beautifully. Show me how much you want me to hurt you.”

 

Grantaire really didn’t need telling twice; he wrapped an eager hand around the base of Enjolras’ cock and guided just the tip into his mouth, laving his tongue over the head and tasting the sharp tang of Enjolras’ excitement. Then he began to suck lightly, hollowing his cheeks as his tongue slid slyly past his lips to caress the sensitive underside of the shaft.

 

Enjolras groaned loudly, “I knew a slut like you would be good with his mouth.”

 

Grantaire made a noise in his throat that made Enjolras groan again, and his tongue returned to his mouth as he began to bob up and down, taking more of Enjolras on each downward stroke.

 

“God yes,” hissed Enjolras, tangling a hand in Grantaire’s curls and pushing him down harshly enough to make him gag, “Take it!”

 

Grantaire did so admirably, keeping still and only struggling minutely as Enjolras held him down, his nose pressed against the expensive fabric of the dress trousers as involuntary tears leaked onto the material.

 

Grantaire didn’t even realise the taxi had rolled to a stop until Enjolras yanked him roughly off his cock and swiftly rebuttoned his trousers as Grantaire gasped the air back into his lungs.

 

“Come on, cockslut,” the blond growled, taking Grantaire’s hand and pulling him out of the car. They had reached an immense period house in the nicer part of town, the building evidently converted into luxury flats. Grantaire barely had time to marvel at the well maintained architecture before he was being shoved up the front steps, his hands held stiffly behind his back again as Enjolras propelled him none too gently up the stairs and into the house.

 

They hurtled through the hallway too quickly for Grantaire to catch a glimpse of anything other than dark wood panelling and seemingly numberless doorways leading to other rooms. When Enjolras finally released him Grantaire found himself in a room dominated by an immense bed with an intricate wrought iron bedstead.

 

“Wow,” he couldn’t help but mutter, thinking of his own tiny studio bedsit with the peeling paint and the asbestos hidden behind the plasterboard.

 

“Face the wall,” ordered Enjolras gruffly, “Hands behind your back.”

 

Grantaire complied hastily and a second later he felt Enjolras pressed hotly behind him, pushing him into the wall until he was pinned bodily against the dark wallpaper. Enjolras’ tongue traced a slow, teasing line from Grantaire’s ear to his collarbone, then his teeth dug sharply into the muscle where Grantaire’s shoulder and neck joined, making the other man cry out. Grantaire felt a wave of dizziness when he realised Enjolras’ erection was pressing against his ass as the blond continued to deliver savage bites across his shoulders, sucking the pale skin into bruises in several places and making Grantaire mewl needfully.

 

“I’m going to handcuff you now,” Enjolras whispered huskily, backing off slightly and asking, “What’s your safe word?”

 

“Duchamp,” said Grantaire immediately, wanting to reassure Enjolras that yes he was definitely on board with this, more than ready to play this game, and equally capable of halting it if necessary. An appreciative chuckle and suddenly Enjolras was gone, but the loss of the other man’s heat against him was quickly ameliorated by the cold snap of metal across his wrists, locking them in place in the small of his back.

 

“Good. Use it if you need to, I’m not going to go easy on you.”

 

“Don’t,” begged Grantaire as he tested the restraints, finding that the sharp solidity of them went straight to his aching cock.

 

“So needy,” murmured Enjolras approvingly, “Turn around and get on your knees.”

 

It was a struggle without the use of his hands but Grantaire obeyed, looking up at Enjolras with his face a picture of slavish delight. Grantaire could already feel himself slipping into subspace when Enjolras grabbed a handful of curls and dragged him forwards, rubbing Grantaire’s face contemptuously against the crotch of his trousers. Grantaire couldn’t help but mouth at the obvious hardness through the material, not caring as his tongue stained the expensive fabric with damp.

 

Evidently neither did Enjolras as he groaned quietly and said, “I want to use that gorgeous mouth of yours properly.” He flicked open the button of his fly but before he could reach the zipper Grantaire had grasped it in his teeth and pulled it down with calculated slowness. It was cliché and show offish, but that didn’t stop Enjolras from groaning fondly, “Such a slut.”

 

Grantaire proved his credentials by nosing his way hungrily into Enjolras’ trousers, rubbing his face against the boxer-clad outline of Enjolras’ cock with desperate enthusiasm, letting out a small whine as the hardness twitched against his stubbled cheek.

 

“Needy slut,” hissed Enjolras, “Do you want me to fuck that pretty mouth of yours?”

 

Grantaire mewled again in response, the noise high-pitched and needful and Enjolras smirked, “All right, as you asked so nicely.”

 

He pulled Grantaire away with the hand in his hair, using the other to push his trousers and underwear down to mid-thigh, releasing his cock. Enjolras was still almost fully dressed, his trousers dragged down just far enough to expose himself but his shirt still in place, the inequality making Grantaire moan softly. Enjolras taunted Grantaire with his cock, letting the darker haired man get just close enough to flick the leaking tip with his tongue, then pulling away and laughing cruelly as Grantaire struggled and whimpered.

 

“Come on!” Grantaire demanded in frustration and Enjolras slapped him across the face, _hard_ , with his free hand.

 

“Don’t get grabby,” Enjolras admonished, “You’ll take what I give you and be thankful for it.”

 

Instantly the frustrated look fell away from Grantaire’s face and he dropped his eyes to the floor, murmuring, “Yes sir. Sorry sir.”

 

“Good boy. Now what do you want?”

 

“Whatever you want to give me.”

 

“Very good, as a reward you may suck my cock,” he took a step forward and Grantaire immediately opened his mouth, allowing himself to be guided slowly down Enjolras’ shaft by the fist in his hair.

 

“Such a perfect mouth,” Enjolras groaned, pulling Grantaire up and down slowly enough to allow him to show off his vast repertoire of blowjob skills again, hollowing his cheeks to suck and sliding out his tongue whenever possible. Enjolras’ breathing quickened and his hips twitched as he forced Grantaire to take him deeper.

 

“Fuck,” he rasped when Grantaire gagged but didn’t even attempt to move away as his throat constricted. The hand tangled in his hair stilled and for a second Grantaire thought the other man was going to come, but instead he withdrew entirely, tracing Grantaire’s wet lips obscenely with his cock as he commanded, “Open.”

 

Grantaire was already straining painfully in his tight jeans, but after obediently relaxing his jaw he felt another rush of heady arousal dizzying him when Enjolras held his head still in an iron grip and began to fuck his mouth in earnest.

 

Every thrust was fast and brutal, Enjolras slamming into Grantaire’s mouth with enough force that were it not for the hand anchoring his head the restrained man would have been in danger of losing his balance. Every hard push drew a hiss or a moan from Enjolras while Grantaire choked and tried to be good as tears collected in his eyes, tried not to shoot in his pants _like a fucking teenager for god sake_ , tried to lose himself in service and the pain and the pleasure that rippled through him, each sensation inextricable for the other. He felt a half-healed cut on his lip burst open again and the taste of metal filled his mouth along with the musk and salt. He imagined what he must look like, his own blood dragged along Enjolras’ perfect cock as it pounded in and out of his filthy lips, the thought making him want to moan and the fact that he was incapable of doing so because he was being gagged so deeply by Enjolras making it even more erotic.

 

“Fucking hell… Your perfect, slutty mouth! I’m gonna- ”

 

Grantaire tried to whimper consent but the noise was lost in his throat, muted by Enjolras’ cock slamming in as deeply as he could.

 

“ _Fuck!_ ” yelled Enjolras, and suddenly the hot, satisfying weight was gone from Grantaire’s mouth and Enjolras was coming across his face in thick spurts, the evidence of his orgasm splattering into Grantaire’s open, bloody mouth, across his cheekbones, and dripping down his chin.

 

When Enjolras was fully spent he dropped to his knees in front of Grantaire, breathing heavily as he ran his fingers through the come decorating Grantaire’s pale face. He roughly shoved his smeared fingers between Grantaire’s swollen lips, moaning quietly as the other man licked them clean, even darting out his tongue to catch a stray drop at the side of his mouth. Enjolras kissed him then, passionate and filthy, the blond’s tongue delving into the bloody tear in Grantaire’s lip and coming away streaked with red before sliding up the side of his face and capturing his own ejaculate, only to return to Grantaire’s mouth and push the mixture of fluids past those abused lips with his tongue; Grantaire was close enough already, but that was almost sufficient to push him over the edge. Once Enjolras was satisfied that Grantaire was clean he reached out a hand and thumbed open Grantaire’s jeans, earning him a gasp of relief from the over-stimulated submissive.

 

“ _Please_ ,” whimpered Grantaire desperately, his cock throbbing painfully after being kept on the precipice of release for so long.

 

“Not yet,” smiled Enjolras lazily, hauling Grantaire to his feet with a grip on his shoulder, “I’m not done with you yet.”

 

He stripped Grantaire’s trousers from him deftly, giving the now-naked man an appraising once over before pushing him towards the bed.

 

“Bend over.”

 

Grantaire laid his torso flat over the mattress, spreading his legs and pushing his ass in the air while his hands remained cuffed behind his back and his aching, leaking cock lay trapped between his abdomen and the bed sheets.

 

Enjolras stroked a gentle hand over Grantaire’s exposed ass, the touch soothing but also reminiscent of the calm before the storm. True to Grantaire’s instincts, a second later a sharp slap echoed through the room and Grantaire yelped as his body instinctively jerked forward, delicious friction making his cock twitch hungrily.

 

“You’re going to come like this, just from me hurting you, understand? I’m going to warm you up with my hand, then I’m going to use my belt on you, but I’m not going to touch your cock.”

 

“Yes, please, yes, anything,” begged Grantaire incoherently, his world spiralling down into just the heat of Enjolras’ handprint on his ass, the tang of blood on his lips, and the throb of desperation between his legs.

 

Enjolras spanked him again, harder this time, and again Grantaire’s body rocked instinctively forward, his trapped cock painful with frustration. Enjolras continued, heedless of Grantaire’s moans and whimpers as he rained down blow after blow on the exposed skin until Grantaire could feel it glowing hotly, red and aching and driving him almost mad. Just as Grantaire felt his balls beginning to contract and his mind beginning to white out, a rough pull on his handcuffs yanked him away from bliss and half upright.

 

Enjolras hissed in his ear, “ _Not yet_ ,” and Grantaire whimpered pitifully, no longer trying to seduce but simply unable to find the words to beg for what he so badly needed.

 

He was shoved back down onto the bed and heard the soft rustle of fabric as Enjolras tugged his belt free. A moment later a snap of sharp pain across his backside tore a howl from his throat and almost threw him into climax there and then.

 

“So responsive,” purred Enjolras behind him, bringing the belt down again to another cry from Grantaire, “You’re going to have such lovely bruises when I’m done with you. Come for me now boy, I want to hear you scream.”

 

It only took four more blows and a moment of rutting against the mattress for Grantaire to come with a strangled shout, more pain than pleasure, the welts rising on his ass in neat red lines and their edges already beginning to bruise. Enjolras continued to beat him savagely throughout, only stopping when Grantaire’s yell had progressed to a drawn out moan, then harsh gasps for air, and finally gentle sobbing.

 

Enjolras ran a hand down the heated, abused skin, making Grantaire flinch even as he murmured, “Shh, you took that very well. You look so lovely like this, all tied up and wearing my marks, you make me want to just keep you here… How do you feel?”

 

“Sore,” mumbled Grantaire truthfully, his sobs evening out but tears still streaking his flushed cheeks.

 

“Good. That’s what you get for being such a desperate slut.”

 

Grantaire whimpered quietly, the harsh words sending a shiver of arousal through him that his body couldn’t hope to act upon just yet.

 

“What are you?” pressed Enjolras in a dangerous tone.

 

Grantaire whimpered again, his tongue heavy with the haze of orgasm and unable to produce a coherent response.

 

“Answer me!” Enjolras brought the flat of his palm down over the freshly formed bruises on Grantaire’s ass with a wicked smack.

 

The sudden, unexpected shot of pain jumpstarted Grantaire’s drifting mind, and he began babbling, “A slut, I’m a slut! Please hurt me again, please!”

 

“Very good,” said Enjolras approvingly, rubbing a soothing hand over Grantaire’s abused ass in reward, “But you’ll have to be more specific; what _exactly_ do you want me to do to you?”

 

“Whatever you want,” whined Grantaire, beginning to squirm out of his prone position, desperate to see Enjolras in all his cold, cruel glory, but at the same time knowing that the deprivation made his position so much sweeter.

 

Enjolras planted a firm hand between Grantaire’s shoulder blades, holding him down effortlessly as he spat, “Don’t lie, whore. I saw the way you were looking at me, I know what sort of filthy fantasies animals like you have. Tell me what you want, _beg_ me for it.”

 

“I want your cock,” mumbled Grantaire with his face pressed into the sheets, “I want you to fuck me, please, I need it. I need you to use me, make me your slut!”

 

Enjolras replied with a feral snarl and Grantaire immediately found himself being hauled to his feet by his aching wrists, the wrench making his already sore shoulders burn and making him cry out. Enjolras spun him around and pulled him into a harsh kiss, the sharp tang of intermingled come and blood still flavouring both their lips as Enjolras shoved his tongue possessively into Grantaire’s mouth, the groan from the blond more of a growl as Grantaire whimpered desperately, pressing his body into Enjolras’ as well as he could while still restrained.

 

“Such a perfect slut,” breathed Enjolras heavily against his lips as they broke apart. The blond pulled a tiny silver key from his trouser pocket before quickly divesting himself of all remaining garments, smirking at Grantaire’s wide-eyed appraisal of his newly bared body, particularly his cock, almost fully hard again after the excitement and the exertion of the beating.

 

With the key he unlocked one side of the cuffs, allowing Grantaire a few seconds to stretch his aching arms and massage his wrists before ordering, “Get on the bed, on your knees.”

 

Grantaire did so eagerly, still flexing his arms and hands as he knelt with his eyes downcast, waiting patiently for Enjolras’ next order. He winced slightly as he settled his sore ass back on his heels, but he didn’t fail to notice that his brief grimace of pain caused Enjolras’ cock to stir interestedly.

 

“As you’ve been so good I’m going to fuck you now,” purred Enjolras, sliding onto the bed to kneel facing Grantaire and winding his long fingers tightly into the other man’s dark curls. Grantaire hissed and his hands twitched at his sides, making the loose handcuffs rattle where they hung as Enjolras yanked his head back and kissed threateningly up his jugular.

 

“Do you want to touch me?” he growled against Grantaire’s jumping pulse point, clearly having noted the desperate but gratifyingly obedient clenches of Grantaire’s fists as he struggled to keep his hands to himself.

 

“Yes,” Grantaire rasped, his neck pulled too tight for him to elaborate further.

 

“Yes what?” Enjolras taunted, giving another sharp tug and eliciting a strangled whine from Grantaire.

 

“Yes, _p-please_ , sir,” Grantaire amended with difficulty.

 

“Permission granted, whore.”

 

Grantaire’s hands flew to Enjolras, desperate to map every inch of the handsome stranger with the fierce eyes and the dark desires. Enjolras kissed him like that, leaning over Grantaire with his fingers twined controllingly in his hair as Grantaire skated deft hands feverishly over every part of Enjolras he could reach, memorising the lines of his body, the curves and the planes, the coarse hairs and the warmth of his skin, every touch at once reverent and grateful.

 

The handcuffs still dangled limply from one of Grantaire’s reddened wrists, and as the cool metal dipped against Enjolras’ skin he grinned into the kiss and easily caught Grantaire’s exploratory hand in his own. The hand gripping Grantaire’s dark hair loosened and slid down the other man’s back, pausing to firmly squeeze his heated ass before wrapping gently around his still-sensitive cock and beginning to stoke it back to hardness.

 

Grantaire whimpered and Enjolras caught the sound gladly in his mouth, chasing it with his tongue and intensifying his attentions to Grantaire’s half-hard dick as the dark haired man began to rock and squirm against him, half fucking needfully into his fist and half trying to get away from the over-stimulating touch.

 

“That’s it, try to fight it,” breathed Enjolras against Grantaire’s lips, biting down where the lower one was split and releasing another trickle of blood into both their mouths, “You’re mine and I’m not letting you go. I’m going to use you as I please.”

 

Grantaire moaned and pressed himself against Enjolras, his free hand clutching desperately at the back of the other man’s neck in an attitude diametrically opposed to fighting Enjolras off.

 

“I’m going to use you for my pleasure,” Enjolras continued, the combination of his hand and his words bringing Grantaire back to full hardness in record time, “Tie you down and fuck you hard and fast, or however I want to, because that’s all a slut like you is good for isn’t it? You’re just a hole for me to fuck.”

 

Grantaire keened quietly, his entire body throbbing with desire; his bloody lip, his reddened ass, his scored wrists, and his tormented cock. The pain and the pleasure and the loss of control fused together and he felt that familiar, peculiar contraction of the mind until nothing else existed for him but Enjolras and the sensations he was producing.

 

“Hush boy,” soothed Enjolras, and Grantaire realised dimly that he was making a tremulous whimpering noise high in his throat, “It’s not your fault, you can’t help being such a filthy cockslut. Boys like you need to be used and I’m going to give you exactly what you need. I’m going to fuck you and fill you so completely. You’ll feel so much better with me buried in your lovely ass, won’t you?”

 

“Please,” begged Grantaire, hardly recognising the high whine of his voice as Enjolras released his cock, “ _Please_ sir.”

 

“Of course, you needy thing. Turn around, arms up.”

 

Grantaire did as he was bidden, his cock twitching heavily between his legs as Enjolras took the dangling handcuffs and linked them through the intricate wrought iron headboard before snapping them back around Grantaire’s free wrist. Grantaire was kneeling to face the headboard, with his arms pulled slackly upward and the slope of his back pushing his ass invitingly into the air.

 

“Perfect,” purred Enjolras from behind him, “You’re going to take me so well…”

 

A single, slick finger slid into Grantaire with no warning, pulling a gasp and an involuntary jerk of the hips from the dark haired man. Enjolras worked him open slowly, teasingly, waiting until Grantaire was groaning and rocking his hips back pleadingly before adding a second, then a third finger, occasionally pressing against _that_ spot that made Grantaire shudder and groan wantonly as he tried to fuck himself on Enjolras’ maddening hand.

 

Grantaire whined hoarsely when Enjolras finally withdrew his fingers, his cock leaking and his hands clenching and unclenching uselessly against the cuffs. He pushed his ass back in invitation but merely earned himself another slap across the hot, red skin.

 

“Control yourself, whore,” ordered Enjolras over the crinkle of a condom wrapper being ripped open, “This isn’t about you getting what you want, it’s about me _taking_ \- ”

 

Grantaire lost the rest of Enjolras’ sentence as the other man pushed roughly into him, tearing a shout from Grantaire’s raw throat.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” muttered Enjolras, and the obscenity rolling from those perfectly controlled, severe lips made Grantaire’s dick twitch.

 

Enjolras’ fingers were steel on Grantaire’s hip, holding him still with a bruising possessiveness, and for a moment neither moved, simply breathing slowly together as Grantaire adjusted to the stretch and Enjolras recollected himself within the searing heat of the other man.

 

“Move,” whimpered Grantaire quietly after a moment, “Please- ”

 

“Shut up,” snapped Enjolras, slapping the dark haired man’s ass sharply, “Patience slut, you’ll get fucked when I’m ready and you’ll damn well thank me for it.”

 

“Yes sir,” grunted Grantaire hoarsely, then he groaned as Enjolras pulled out with torturous slowness and pushed savagely back in. With his hands bound in front of him Grantaire could do little but simply take it as Enjolras slammed into him, quickly building the speed and intensity of his thrusts until Grantaire was gripping onto the cuffs with white knuckles and the entire bed was rocking with them. The dark haired man keened and writhed, biting out curses and choking on moans, unable to stop himself from shouting out, “ _Enjolras!_ ” as the blond’s hand wrapped around his cock and began pumping him in a quick, dirty rhythm.

 

“Come for me,” demanded Enjolras fiercely in Grantaire’s ear before burying his teeth in his shoulder.

 

“I- _Jesus, fuck!_ I- ”

 

Enjolras’ teeth clamped down painfully hard; _Do it_.

 

“ _Fuck!_ ”

 

Grantaire came with a ragged shout, his body tensing sharply as Enjolras pulled his orgasm from him with a snarl. The dull throb from the spanking, the taste of blood and spunk in his mouth, the hot, white pain in his wrists as he jerked against the handcuffs, and Enjolras’ teeth buried savagely in his shoulder all combined in a swirl of hurt that almost overwhelmed his haze of pleasure, ecstasy tainted with, enhanced by, kindled from agony.

 

Grantaire was barely aware as Enjolras fucked him through it, the hand around his dick moving, once he was spent, to grip his other hip and pull his pliant body back into Enjolras’ driving cock. It only took another moment for Enjolras to groan lowly in his chest, and after two more deep thrusts he came with a muttered litany of curses, barely managing to restrain himself from collapsing over Grantaire’s back in exhaustion.

 

Enjolras recovered sooner, grinning a sated, lazy grin as he withdrew and quickly disposed of the condom. Grantaire remained hanging limply by his wrists, the welts there now deep and raw, just beginning to glisten with blood. Quickly, Enjolras unlocked the handcuffs, laying Grantaire down onto the mattress and pulling that dark head into his lap.

 

Grantaire was yet to make a sound since his shout of orgasm and Enjolras would have been worried if not for the dopey smile on the other man’s relaxed face. Enjolras grabbed his discarded boxers and wiped the mess off Grantaire’s chest, then he leaned over to the bedside cabinet and withdrew a tub of balm, rubbing the soothing ointment into Grantaire’s wrists as he massaged the sore joints and broken skin.

 

Grantaire gave a vague, contented hum at the attention, though Enjolras knew it must be hurting him. Once he was satisfied that Grantaire was clean and his injuries well attended to he planted a sweet kiss to the other man’s forehead and began murmuring as he carded his fingers through dark curls, “You were so good, you took everything I dealt out and you gave back double. Such a good boy. You made me so happy…”

 

He continued to mutter soft, kind words and lose himself in the easy motion of stroking Grantaire’s hair until the other man began to stir, opening bleary eyes and looking up sheepishly.

 

“Thanks,” Grantaire said, his voice still rough.

 

“For what?” smiled Enjolras affectionately, brushing a stray curl off Grantaire’s forehead.

 

“For y’know, the niceness… Aftercare. It’s nice. Thank you.”

 

Enjolras looked surprised, “Is it that unusual?”

 

“Well yeah, if you get picked up in places like that it is,” shrugged Grantaire, rolling over and propping himself up on his elbows beside Enjolras so they could converse more easily, “I mean, it’s usually more wham, bam, thank you ma’am. This is nicer, it’s comfortable here and I feel happy and safe with you... Not that I’m inviting myself to stay the night or anything!” he added anxiously, “Y’know, just, thanks. I had fun.”

 

“You can stay the night if you want to,” said Enjolras as Grantaire made to get up, “I’d really like you to, if that’s okay.”

 

“Um,” a wave of anxiety rose inside Grantaire, but the earnest expression on Enjolras’ previously serious face compelled him to say, “Yeah. That’s definitely okay. Thanks.”

 

“No problem,” smiled Enjolras, pulling Grantaire into a possessive embrace before tugging the blankets over both of them.

 

It was easy for Grantaire to lose himself in the warm skin and strong arms of the man holding him, drifting to sleep sore, satisfied, and for once well looked after. He was just crossing into the frayed edges of a dream when Enjolras’ voice broke the silence asking, “How does you ass feel?”

 

“Hurts,” grunted Grantaire, his voice thick with sleep.

 

“Good,” and Grantaire could _hear_ the smirk, “Because I’m going to fuck you again in the morning, then I’m going to take you out to brunch and probably dinner as well if you’re amenable.”

 

“’M gonna say yes. To all of th’ above,” mumbled Grantaire with a sleepy smile.

 

“Good,” repeated Enjolras, kissing the dark haired man lightly on the lips, “I’m looking forward to it already.”


End file.
